The Wind upon the Sands Raid
by equine02
Summary: In the episode "The Double Deadly raid," Tully pretends to be sick- what if he actually was? Serious whump, ONESHOT. Sorry for the bad summary.


**So, this is a "what-if" one-shot for the RP episode "The Double Deadly Raid." Towards the middle-ish, end-ish, Tully pretends to be sick….for a reason I forget (c'mon people, it's nighttime, I've had like, seven chocolate bars today, and I haven't watched the episode lately… give me the benefit of the doubt that I have some vague idea about what im doing..) Anyway, he** ** _pretends_** **to be sick, but what if he really was? Not sure if I got Joe Mosten's name right- is it Mosten? PM or drop a review, and I'll fix it if it's wrong** **J** **Very, very light swearing, nothing too horrible.** **Oh, and I'm not a doctor, but I have had appendicitis, and let me tell you, waking up does feel like you've been stabbed in the gut. I was six** **L** **. I'm so happy I didn't die! Thanks God!**

 **Disclaimer: sad as this is, none of them belong to me. Not even Hitch. Not even his glasses. Not a single thing… not even a grain of sand- and those guys have plenty to spare, let me tell you.**

 **On to the story, which is dedicated to Sgt. Saunders143, who wanted a Tully story- enjoy, and please review! Any mistakes are purely due to by on-purposely overdosing on chocolate bars. I think I ate seven today. Blast Halloween.**

All day he'd been feeling out of sorts. His head had throbbed, probably from stress- but worse than that was his stomach. It hurt almost as badly as if he'd been shot, especially on the right side. This morning he'd felt so awful he'd skipped his breakfast- as wonderful as old, powdered eggs sounded- and went straight to the jeeps. God, he hoped this would go away soon. Even though the desert sun felt hot on his back, he shivered as they drove away.

* * *

Tully felt horrible, standing in the middle of the camp. Nauseous, feverish. He'd never felt this way before. His side flared, and he collapsed forward onto his knees, the world spinning in shouts and confusion above him. Only the intense pain kept him from blacking out.

* * *

Moffit glanced up from his conversation at the intrusion of a German officer, a man who spoke in rapid, panicked tones, spewing out German at the Doctor. The Doc's eyes were wide, and he exchanged a look with Moffit that said, 'Now.' Joe, Phillips, and Moffit rushed out of the tent and followed the soldier. Quickly spotting him, they ran over to Tully, who was on his knees, moaning and rocking in agony.

The Doc Phillips took Tully's face in his hands and lifted it to check his eyes, and immediately the man groaned loudly. Moffit, whispered quickly to Phillips, under his breath. Contrary to Moffit's belief that this was all a fake-front, swore he saw actual pain on Tully's face. That, or the Private was an extraordinary actor.

"You don't have to protect the doc." Joe Mosten spoke up suddenly, and quite randomly. Before the doctor could reply Tully pitched forward with a sharp intake of breath.

"Stretcher! Get me a stretcher" yelled Doc Phillips. Two of the bystanders ran off in the direction of the medical tents. Moffit looked up at Doc Phillips with a razor-edged look.

"What's the matter with him?"

"He's burning up. Could be bad. I need to get him inside," he replied shortly.

"Right." Moffit helped move Tully onto the stretcher. The driver's blonde hair was so sweaty it was brown, and his usually bright eyes were opened to slits. Moffit placed his hand on his friend's forehead, and gently spoke, "It's going to be alright, Tully. Relax, Doc Phillips is going to take care of you, just hold on. The stretcher was lifted, and Tully brought inside, leaving Moffit staring right at Joe Mosten. Moffit frowned, and followed the procession into the medical tent with mixed feelings.

* * *

Inside, Tully was writhing on the stretcher. His face and chest were soaked with sweat, and his hands grasped the sides with intensity.

"Rrgh!" he gasped through gritted teeth. His head turned to the side, avoiding Sergeant Moffit's worried expression. The British man didn't hesitate to grab Tully's hand.

"Quiet, Tully, the morphine's coming."

"Actually it's not. If I have to put him under for surgery, I want to do it right before, and with ether. I don't want to risk using both Morphine and Ether so close together."

"You know what's wrong with him? Enough to operate?"

"No, but I've got an idea. I'm going to need two other men to hold him down while I examine him." The doctor began cutting away Tully's shirt.

"What do you mean, 'hold him down?' what do you plan to do?" Moffit stood up, still holding his friend's sweaty shaking hand. Tully was only semi-conscious.

"Well I have to examine him, and I won't lie, it's going to hurt like hell. What with him as dehydrated as he is, we'll give him water and all that, and an IV, but there's really not much more we can do."

Moffit reluctantly submitted. He knelt back down, "Hang in there, Tully."

"I…. will…. Sarge…" he forced out. Moffit gave the sick man his most serious look.

"When this is all over, you'd better have an explanation. This can't have started just now."

About then two other prisoners arrived, looking clueless and a little scared by the state of Tully.

"What's wrong with him, Doc?" asked one, "Will he be okay?"

"That's what you're here to help me find out. Hold him down, one of you take his legs, one of you take his shoulders. Moffit, keep holding his hand, I don't want you hurting your arm trying to hold him."

Moffit nodded, turning his attention to Tully again, "You squeeze as hard as you need to, you hear me?"

Tully nodded weakly as the men pinned him to the table.

"Alright, Soldier, are you ready?"

"…never…" Tully grinned cockishly at the doctor, though it was a sad attempt to cover his pain. Doc resisted rolling his eyes.

The boyish grin faded quickly when the doc put his hands onto Tully's abdomen. He stiffened noticeably and swallowed a scream when the medical man pushed down. Moffit felt the grip around his hand tighten, and his joints popped under the pressure.

What came out instead of the scream was something that sounded much worse. To Moffit, it was a wild cry of agony, raw and untamed. It tore from Tully's throat like a horse from its racing slot. Tully's tortured cries faded into sobs and he struggled to get away, tears streaking his face.

"Are you finished?" asked Moffit desperately. Tully's crying was unsettling.

"Yes. It's his appendix. We're going to have to put him under. I don't have any nurses, as you've seen, so you're going to help me."

Moffit was handed the mask and a bottle of ether. He administered them as quickly as was healthy, and then held Tully's hand again, waiting for the tear-filled eyes to close into sleep.

* * *

His side was on fire. Every time he moved, every time he breathed it was agony. Sore, and though not nearly as bad as before, now there was a different pain. Like he'd been cut open and sewn back up, though with the extraordinary events of his life, it wasn't unlikely. Slowly, Tully allowed himself to resurface. When he blinked open his eyes, there was Moffit. Something cold and wet rested on his forehead, and hung over the top of his vision, probably a rag. He felt so _cold_ …

He saw an IV line running out of his hand, and that he had no shirt on. His chest rose and fell like it always had, slightly faster, and beyond it was a white bandage. Had he been run through with a bayonet? It sure felt like it.

"Well, Tully, you sure gave me a scare," Moffit smiled, "how do you feel?"

"Hurts. Like I was run through…. an', it's really cold, Sarge." He mumbled, sucking in another painful breath, "I thought we were in the _desert_. S'posed to be _hot_ in the desert."

Moffit chuckled, "you have a bit of a fever, Tully. We're trying to bring it down. But I'll get you a blanket if you like." Moffit rose.

"Thanks Sarge." He shivered, "I'd like that."

Moffit smiled, patting Tully's leg, "You welcome."

"What ever happened to Doc, an' Joe?"

"Don't worry about that now."

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. Moffit returned with the blanket, and draped it over the shivering man.

"Something tells me Troy will give us a break so he can deal with that, and we can deal with this." Moffit sat down again. "He and Hitch got here last night with half of the British Army. I swear, I don't know how he does it...Or why…"

"Last night?"

"Yes, you were out two days, with the morphine and ether combined. You had a lot of healing to do, and you've still got a long way to go." He sighed, "Well I better go check in with Troy. I'll be back later to check on you, so will the doc, when this mess is sorted out. Well, so long as you don't die before that happens." He was almost out of the tent when Tully said,

"Moffit? Thanks."

"For what?"

"For being there."

"Always."

Sharing a moment of silence, all that could be heard was the sound of the wind running its course through the tents, and out onto the sand dunes beyond them.

 **Thank you so much for reading! I know, there are some rushed parts, and maybe a few plot holes, but this was for personal enjoyment, and I thought I'd post it… so be nice. Please take ten seconds and write me a review! I always appreciate them, and so would Tully, poor guy. I torture these fellas' way too much whenever I write about them!**


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